


Nobody Else But Me

by ix_tab



Category: Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Fluff, Found Family, M/M, bushi is a luxury few can afford, visiting your sad furry son while he recuperates in hospital
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 07:53:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15601755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ix_tab/pseuds/ix_tab
Summary: At this point, there's nothing that can rock the foundation of Naito and Bushi's decades long relationship, itself the core of their little found family.That includes worry, stress, fear or injury. Or throwaway comments made by clearly jealous commentators.





	Nobody Else But Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tealtier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealtier/gifts).
  * Inspired by [We're Coupled Lines in Lightning Strikes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15578883) by [tealtier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealtier/pseuds/tealtier). 



> tealtier is entirely responsible for getting me into wrestling and I could not be more grateful. It's been a wonderful experience, ups and down and all, and I've had an explosion of creativity I never expected from it.
> 
> as a small measure of thanks, here's something for the criminally underrepresented naito/bushi pairing. 
> 
> thank you, as always, and also this is entirely your fault, take responsibility for your wrestle crimes. i love you.
> 
> Title from Miike Snow's "Ghengis Khan" because, you know. It's great.

 

It's quiet, in the hospital waiting room. Bushi represses an instinctive urge to shudder, the familiar scent of bleached floors and the vibe of human misery overwhelming for a second.

Naito picks up on it, attuned to him as ever, and taps his thigh, affectionately. Bushi pushes his hand away but lets their fingers tangle for a second.

The nurse opens up the room where Hiromu is sequestered away in, and they are hit with a wall of sound. Hiromu yelps, and turns his TV down from ear bursting volume to a whisper.

 

“Takahashi-san,” the nurse says, reproving, but gets dazzled and flustered by Hiromu's bright beaming smile.

 

She shuts the door behind them and Bushi sits on the chair next to Hiromu’s bed, able to touch him. Naito stands behind Bushi, looming, uncomfortable.

 

“You didn't have to -” Hiromu starts to say and Bushi pokes him, gently in the side.

 

“You aren't an obligation, Hiromu,” Bushi says. He watches complicated, discordant emotions flash across Hiromu's face, and then Naito clears his throat.

 

“Are they treating you ok?” Naito asks awkwardly. Bushi shares a glance with Hiromu.

 

Both of them knew that Naito didn't cope well with any of their little family being in pain but they were both regularly on the end of more intense concern from the other three. And real suffering seemed to leave Naito reeling. He couldn't bluff or stay cool in the face of it.

Bushi wonders for a second if that this visit might be more stressful for Naito then even for him, haunted as he is by what seemed like an eternity of bed rest and fear at the time.

 

“I'm fine, the staff are really nice. They don't tell me off for having loud phonecalls or watching tv when I can't sleep at night,” Hiromu answers.

 

Both Bushi and Naito had been on the end of those phonecalls, a little manic, a little desperate, occasionally apologetic. Naito had cried after the first one, sworn Bushi to secret, and Bushi had immediately told Evil and Sanada.

If Naito couldn't be the pillar of support Hiromu would need through this then they would all have to step up further. But, after that initial reaction, Naito had seemed to collect himself and it's been easier to work as a team.

 

“Don't watch tv instead of sleeping,” Bushi can't help himself but scold and gets up, tucking the blankets in around Hiromu better. It brings back memories of his own seemingly endless convalescence, bored out of his mind, but unable to summon the energy even to read, so the tv was on as a constant distraction.

 

“Yes, Kaasan,” Hiromu says  ignoring the second gentle prod it earns him.

 

It's embarrassing because Bushi doesn't actually mind it when the fans or the other members call him Kaasan. There's part of him that does think of Evil, Sanada and Hiromu as his children, just like he thinks of Naito as his scruffy looking husband.

He can't help it, they are younger than him, he knew them all when they were younger, more vulnerable and now he watches them as their potential is blossoming. He feels proud, is proud of them all.

He's proud of Naito too, especially right now. Naito lets Hiromu guide the conversation, affirming the positives, reinforcing them and denying the negatives.

Hiromu is always so quick to jump to self criticism, the darker side to his explosive energy, and while Bushi knows that they can't change what Hiromu believes, they can at least not buy into it.

He will probably hear Hiromu call himself ‘useless’ for the rest of their lives. The best thing he can do is show and say that he doesn't think it's true.

 

“Rocky Romero has a crush on you, Bushi,” Hiromu says, a non sequitur thrown into his conversation with Naito.

 

Bushi notes, with amusement the way Naito's fingers crush his paper coffee cup spilling hot droplets onto his hand, and then replays the nonsense Hiromu just said in his head.

 

“What on earth? Hiromu, what are you talking about?” Bushi is bewildered, trying to get a handhold on this strange, wild conversational tangent. Hiromu’s face is alight with mischief, which, while a welcome change from pain, is alarming in its own special way.

“I've been watching the G1 with regular commentary first and then English commentary next.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Well, it doesn't hurt to try and brush up my English if I'm going to be stuck here for months. Anyway, Rocky has called you ‘lil mama’ at least twice, and Ospreay says that its flirting.” Hiromu looks triumphant at the confusion he's caused.

 

“Don't talk to Ospreay anymore, he's impeding the healing process,” Naito says, gruffly, then leans down and ruffles Hiromu's hair as a goodbye.

 

Bushi rolls his eyes, and gives Hiromu the carefullest hug he can manage.

 

“Now we have to worry about him-" Bushi jerks a thumb at Naito's sullen, retreating form, “trying to mess with the English commentary table, more then he's allowed to,” he says sternly, as well as he can manage. It's clearly not much, because Hiromu giggles.

 

“Well, Rocky shouldn't try to flirt with my mother,” Hiromu replies, smiling and serene, knowing that Bushi won't risk the smack on the shoulder this would normally earn him.

 

“I'm going to call your actual mother after this, brat,” Bushi says, just to watch Hiromu get flustered.

 

“I'm 28 years old, you can't call my parents to make me behave,” Hiromu says, visibly wilting.

 

“Be good, rest up. We’ll be back as soon as we can,” Bushi says, flicking his eyes to the door where a sulky Naito was lurking.

 

“You're evil!” Hiromu yells, happily at Bushi's retreating back.

 

“No, he’ll be visiting later on.” Bushi shuts Hiromu's door, nods to the nurse politely and rushes after Naito.

 

He doesn't care that he's a smaller man, he is, in fact very fond of his body. But there are occasions where its irritating, and right now he's annoyed that his stride is not on par with Naito's, that he's having to half jog to catch up with him.

He grabs at Naito's elbow, and Naito looks apologetic, slows down so Bushi doesn't have to trot to keep up.

 

“Sorry, Tetsuya, I…” Naito doesn't really have anything to say and Bushi waves his hand to dismiss it.

 

“We can talk when we get back to the hotel,” he says soothing, catching a glimpse of his nails on Naito's arm.

He grimaces.

There's a chip in one nail, which means getting his nails done somewhere other than his regular salon. Annoying.

 

***

“Here,” Bushi says, and knocks the cold can of beer against Naito's head. Naito has been staring at his phone meaningfully for an hour now.

Bushi has taken the time to try out a new hand mask (nourishing! ultra moisturising! ancient beauty secret oil! printed across the package) and has moved from amused, to annoyed and is arriving at irritated pity.

 

“Naito. Naito. Tetsuya, oh my god. Are you seriously this worked up by this? You weren't upset when he was trash talking me and Hiromu!”

 

Bushi thumps down onto the bed, reconsiders his earlier offer and cracks the beer open himself, knocking back a decent mouthfil, ignoring Naito's indignant “Hey!” but surrendering the drink to Naito's insistent grasp.

 

“...That’s different,” Naito mutters, but there's red rising on his neck and Bushi knows that he's got him.

 

He understands, he really does. One of them is hurt, so its time to double down on holding the rest closer. And then, the strife that the nature of the tournament causes, Sanada withdrawn, Evil exhausted from his own battles. 

There isn't much Naito has control of right now, so latching onto some stupid comment seems easy, appealing.

 

“It really isn't. Someone thinking I look good just means they have eyes. Besides, I am light years out of Rocky's price range. I am Luis Vuitton and he is the clearance rack at Uniqlo,” Bushi says. He sniffs, laying down, resting his head in Naito's lap so he can stare up at his face.

It is an unflattering angle, and Bushi loves him. Even when he's at his most petty and stubborn, Naito amazes him.

 

“You are amazing,” Naito says fondly, unknowingly repeating Bushi's thoughts back at him.

 

“I know. Come on. Delete whatever tweet you've been thinking about for 45 minutes, drink your beer and go to the interview you are already late for. I’ve got to decide my gear for tomorrow anyway, and you are never any help with that,”  Bushi says, moving to get up.

Naito's hands press his shoulders back down.

 

“Wha-" Bushi’s question is swallowed up by Naito kissing him, hunched over. They both taste of beer, the ever present salt of summer sweat in the air, and Bushi’s lips are still sweet from the sugar scrub he’d switched to recently. 

Bushi loses himself in the kiss for a moment, then feels Naito twitching as Bushi reaches up. They both open their eyes, pulling away from the kiss.

 

“This is so uncomfortable,” Naito says as Bushi laughs in his face. Bushi sits up, unimpeded this time, laughs again as Naito, deceptively fast, manoeuvres them so he's pinned Bushi to the bed.

 

Bushi puts his arms behind his head, affected nonchalance. It makes Naito's eyes darken, makes him lick his lips. They've had decades to know how to push each other's buttons, perfected it to an artform, at this point.

Even before Naito's public persona had become unfazed, uncaring, there had always been a thrill for Bushi in getting Naito to crack.

 

“Interview?” Bushi prompts, and Naito shrugs.

 

“They can wait,” he replies, briskly pulling off his thin, worn shirt. Bushi raises a groomed eyebrow and does the same to his own, with more care.

 

“Tetsuya. We're going to hear about this. You need to be reprimanded. Hmm...I'm putting leave in conditioner in your hair tonight,” Bushi says, teasing, moving to wrap both hands around the back of Naito's neck, where the dry hair in question tickles his hands.

 

“Fine, fine, whatever you want is fine,” Naito agrees mindlessly, then catches himself, grins against Bushi's mouth.

 

“Will this stop you leaving me for Rocky?”

 

Bushi is glad for Naito's weight holding him down because the burst of laughter that escapes him is enough to make him fall off the bed.

 

“Naito,” Bushi says earnestly, “no matter what our future holds, wins, losses, injuries, arguments, whatever may come...I swear to you, I will never leave you for Rocky Romero.”

Now they are both laughing, but quieten down, in the artificial cool of late afternoon, wrapped around one another.

Bushi makes a dazed mental note to thank Hiromu for riling Naito up enough to shake him from his malaise and then rolls them around until Naito has to steady himself, and Bushi is sitting upright, straddling him.

 

“Luxury should be appreciated,” Bushi says, meeting Naito's slightly wild eyes.

 

“I'm going to appreciate you through the mattress,” Naito snarls, moving his hands so they grip Bushi's hips, harshly.

 

“Promises, promises,” Bushi says, letting himself be pulled down for another kiss.


End file.
